


Slip of a Thing

by 2impostors, orithea



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Frottage, Half-Tiefling Kravitz, Kravitz is sappy and awkward, Large Cock, Lingerie, M/M, Minor Injuries, Post-Canon, Precome Fetish, Taako is horny and scheming, they're very much in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 11:45:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12934596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2impostors/pseuds/2impostors, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orithea/pseuds/orithea
Summary: "I want you to wear something for me, something of mine.”Kravitz's eyebrows immediately raise in curiosity; he had clearly been expecting something else.“That's. I—” Kravitz swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing just above the taut scar marring his throat. “Okay.”"Just like that, huh?"





	Slip of a Thing

**Author's Note:**

> So. This is the first piece of writing that I've published online since my classic embarrassing 12-year-old on on fanfiction.net phase, which was well over 15 years ago at this point. Thankfully my rustiness is tempered by my best friend Ori, who is just generally Very Good, but specifically at writing in this case. I started writing this alone, but it very quickly became a joint project that both of us loved doing together.
> 
> Huge thanks also to our good friends [Evitcani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evitcani/pseuds/Evitcani) & [Wildgoosery](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildgoosery/pseuds/Wildgoosery) who looked this over for us!
> 
> 99.9% of my contribution to TAZ fandom is through art, which you can find either on [twitter](https://twitter.com/i/moments/892740859711688706) or [tumblr](http://2impostors.tumblr.com/tagged/fanart%3A-the-adventure-zone). I'm pretty attached to my half-Tiefling/half-human Kravitz in particular.
> 
> Enjoy!

“You gonna let me get my cuddle on before you turn into a handsome block of ice, or…?”

Kravitz laughs like he’s surprised, then is ever so slightly startled by the sound coming out of him. He’s still not used to vocalising his feelings, a habit from centuries spent predominantly alone.

Getting Kravitz to cuddle doesn’t take much encouragement. He opens his arms in invitation and Taako immediately rolls into him and pulls the duvet up over them both in one fluid motion. The body heat they’d built up together lingers, although Taako is still noticeably warmer against his side.

They spend minutes in comfortable silence, Kravitz’s fingers playing with the short fine hair at Taako’s nape, whilst Taako nestles his face into the underside of his jaw. Kravitz’s somewhat overgrown goatee rasps against his skin.

“Will you do something for me, Krav?” Taako asks eventually, warm breath tickling Kravitz’s throat. His one visible ear twitches in a way that makes Kravitz vaguely suspicious.

“Anything.”

The way he says it without even a moment's hesitation makes Taako’s heart sing, although he isn’t about to openly say so. Instead he just pushes his face harder into the side of his cold idiot boyfriend’s neck.

“ _Any_ thing?” Taako asks. He presses an open-mouthed kiss—more teeth than lips—into Kravitz’s throat and feels Kravitz squirm where he’s half pinned against the mattress. Taako knows full well that attention on his neck is one of the more prominent of Kravitz’s many ( _many_ ) weaknesses. It’s one he’s more than happy to exploit.

“ _Anything_ ,” Kravitz says, with his unmistakably honest tone. It then occurs to him that he doesn’t quite know what he’s promised. “Except—”

Taako’s ear twitches.

"I won't hurt you. Even if you ask for it,” Kravitz says softly, evenly. They’ve talked about this before. “You know that."

Taako can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Nothing like that, homie. I want you to wear something for me.” Kravitz's eyebrows immediately raise in curiosity; he had clearly been expecting something else. “Something of mine.”

“That's. I—” Kravitz swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing just above the taut scar that mars his throat. “Okay.”

“Just like that, huh?” Taako really hadn’t expected it to be that easy, so he decides to press his luck. “You also have to promise me you won’t get off. And I mean _promise_ , my dude.”

Kravitz’s brows knit. It's not that he isn’t on board with… whatever it is Taako's planning, but he senses it's going to be more of a trial than he initially assumed. "O… kay?" It’s both hesitant and yet unable to belie his interest. “Are you going to tell me what, or is it a surprise? Because I don’t think you’re getting me in one of your t-shirts again.”

Kravitz’s tone is firm, but he’s half grinning at the slightly mortifying memory of a night when he’d been contacted about an urgent job and forced to grab the nearest piece of clothing off Taako’s floor, since the elf in question had ripped most of the buttons off his shirt, assuming Kravitz could just summon a new one out of thin air. And then gone bursting through a rift into the middle of a necromancer's keep in a shirt that read ‘ _LET’S GET ONE THING STRAIGHT I’M NOT_ ’.

“Listen, would I do that to you babe?” Taako nips at his neck again, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Kravitz just hums deep in his throat. Taako can feel the vibration against his lips where it reverberates through the long column of Kravitz’s neck. It makes Taako’s toes curl, knowing exactly what that feels like against his dick.

“It’s nothing that, uhh, visible. Don’t worry, no one else is gonna know.”

“I– Right.” Kravitz swallows again and fidgets a little under Taako. “That’s—I think I get it. Show me in the morning?”

“Sure babe, whatever’s good for you.” He grins, and Kravitz mirrors him, with an albeit slightly more wobbly lopsided smile of his own.

Taako takes him by the chin, soft but firm—his thumb pressing into the densely stubbled dip just beneath Kravitz’s bottom lip—and kisses him. Kravitz parts his lips eagerly, letting Taako press his tongue inside, deep enough that he feels the cold curve of one of Kravitz’s elongated canines against the bow of his top lip. Taako groans unabashedly into his mouth, pushing the tip of his tongue against Kravitz’s exquisitely plush bottom lip.

“This your way of asking for round two?” Kravitz says, leaning back enough he can still feel Taako’s slightly hitched, hot breath on his mouth.

“Tragically, I really gotta be able to walk tomorrow, handsome,” he says, pulling away and resting his forehead on Kravitz’s jaw. “Otherwise you _know_ I’d let you rail me all night.”

“You’re just the paragon of romance, you know that?”

“I am _intimately_ aware of my own virtues.”

\-----

Using a level 9 spell slot on a pair of underwear is perhaps not the wisest thing Taako has ever done—he has enough self awareness to know and accept this. But when he considers the end goal? It's worth it. Easily.

He roots through his drawer for a while, turning over the possibilities in his mind. Kravitz has slightly darker skin than his own, and something like a red or teal-ish green would work gorgeously for him. But while they’d suit him, they don’t entirely seem his style. Taako spends a couple more minutes rifling around in the depths of his underwear drawer before a thought comes to mind: black really _is_ Kravitz’s color. It’s fucking ridiculously goth of him, but nearly all of his suits are black and they look fantastic on him. There’s something to be said for a little classic black lace. It’s cliché for a _reason_.

It’s not something that Taako wears much of—a little too understated for his tastes—but he does keep a few pairs for the right occasion. Dressing up your too-hot-to-be-living boyfriend definitely meets the definition of the right occasion.

With a flick of his wrist Taako casts true polymorph and at once the waistband widens by a good couple of inches, the sheer material filling out to the desired size.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He always has the _best_ ideas.

Taako turns to where Kravitz is sitting naked on the edge of their mattress; he already looks flustered and he hasn't even seen them yet.

“I think that should just about do it,” Taako says, chucking the balled up underwear into Kravitz's lap. “You better appreciate my craft, ‘cause cha’boy burned a big one there all for you. Gonna need a nap later for sure.” Taako yawns as if he hadn't literally just gotten out of bed, and pads back over to the nest of duvet and pillows, holding a matching set of black stockings and a garter belt in his other hand.

“Taako, this is— I—” Kravitz holds the black lace up, tilting his head to one side and considering them whilst a deep flush creeps over the bridge of his nose. He can appreciate them aesthetically of course—Taako's choice of wardrobe has always been more than appealing to him. But actually wearing them?

“Problem?”

“I—I don’t think they’re gonna fit, is the problem.” They look, well, tiny; especially in comparison to his standard underwear.

Taako quirks an eyebrow, his ears drawn up high against the sides of his head

“You’d be surprised what you can fit in there, bubelah. Trust me,” he says, leaning over to press a kiss to Kravitz’s cold cheek.

“I suppose you do manage it on the reg,” Kravitz says, somehow still sounding extremely skeptical despite first-hand knowledge of Taako’s intimates. He gives a shrug after a few moments’ deliberation and steps into the underwear.

He pulls them up and lets the fabric settle on his hips, much lower slung than his typical fare. It feels… odd. Not unpleasant yet, but _odd_ to be hugged by fabric in places it doesn’t typically work itself into. He’s surprised by the way his cock settles itself perfectly into the just-enough clasp of fabric without much need for adjustment on his part. It’s just the bit between his cheeks—

Well, that bit makes its demanding presence known when it’s time for the next part of the process. There’s no easy way to put on a pair of stockings—less so when every movement of his lower body makes him shockingly aware of the friction of lace against skin and hair. Taako is perfectly capable of pulling his stockings on whilst standing, calling on some reserve of balance that Kravitz only now fully appreciates, but it feels beyond his own capabilities. In the end, Kravitz has to balance his arse on the edge of the bed as he haltingly pulls the rolled up stockings over his toes and up his legs.

The garter belt comes next; it fastens around his waist easily enough. The six straps hanging from it are another story. His fingers feel unusually large and clumsy as he struggles with the small catches and the elastic slips and rebounds just out of reach more times than should be possible.

“Come here,” Taako curls his fingers and motions for Kravitz to come stand at the end of their bed. “Dunno how this is any different to those ridiculous fuckin’ things you usually wear—”

“Sock garters,” Kravitz deadpans.

“Yeah, them. Now stop fuckin’ fidgeting and lemme—” he fastens the catch firmly onto one stocking and then the other. The tip of his tongue is caught between his teeth in concentration. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Kravitz thinks his heart might just start beating again at the sight.

“Just wanted to get you on your knees, you see.” Kravitz grins his signature toothy grin, top lip stretched somewhat awkwardly over his prominent fangs. Against the odds, Taako manages to find his awkward smiles knee-meltingly adorable rather than rightly terrifying.

Taako looks up at him under his dark lashes for a long second, before darting forwards and snapping both of the garters against Kravitz's thighs, hard.

“Ouch!” Kravitz jolts, coming perilously close to kneeing Taako in the head. “That the real reason you wanted me in these?”

“One of many,” Taako says absently. He pushes his palms over Kravitz's firm, stockinged calves and up towards his thighs, revelling in the texture difference between the softness of the sheer nylon stretched over lean muscle and Kravitz's coarse leg hair. After he’s had his fill of touching, Taako finally gets to his feet and steps back to appreciate his work.

His breath catches a little.

“Hoo boy, that’s—that’s something.”

Kravitz is standing awkwardly, one hand fidgeting over the concavity of his stomach and pushing his fingertips through the thick trail of hair leading down beneath the lacy waistband. His deep flush has extended all the way down his neck and onto his chest before being obscured by his dense chest hair.

“Ready for work, babe?” Taako asks, shit-eating grin firmly plastered all over his face. He can hardly wait to watch Kravitz struggle into one of his suits.

\-----

It's not long until the fact that they're much tighter than his usual fare truly sinks in. Taako had told him he’d adjust to the size, but he still feels far too big for them. The way the lace has been relentlessly hugging his arse all day is driving him up the wall. It's certainly not an unpleasant sensation on its own, but he can't sit down without feeling—deliberately, he thinks—the seam between his legs slide against the cleft of his arse. The sensation makes him squirm, which causes the lace to rub over his already straining cock. Every movement in search of relief only aggravates his problem; it’s deliciously maddening.

Kravitz could swear he's been hard on and off for at least half the day, which has made his mountain of paperwork more than a little difficult to focus on. It occurs to him that he can finally understand Taako's libido being the way it is if this is how he's usually walking around. That, and knowing the exact the way in which the lace hugs Taako’s slim hips low, only serving to accentuate his—

No. He cannot allow his mind to go there right now.

Paperwork. Right, paperwork is incredibly unsexy. But that corner of the desk? If he could _just_ spread his thighs either side of it, it'd be a perfect place to—

 _Fuck_.

He scrubs a shaky hand roughly through his hair, unintentionally dragging his nails ever so slightly against his scalp. It's something Taako does to him sometimes and it makes his knees go weak. Well trained, his cock gives a strong twitch of interest at the sensation and Kravitz almost dematerialises at the telltale feeling of precome seeping through his trousers.

Kravitz growls deeply and lets his head thump down against the surface of the desk—maybe just a little harder than intended—right on top of the stack of uncharacteristically sloppily completed forms for new prisoners. Some of the hastily scrawled ink smears against the tip of his nose.

 _Gods_ , he did promise not to...

And he fully intends to keep his promise. If it weren’t for that, well—it isn't like he hasn't touched himself in the office before. Although it's _technically_ the warden's office for a huge ghost prison, it's also the only place he has to call home.

The only place he _had_ to call home, he supposes. Before Taako.

He rests his cheek against the desk, blowing a deep and pointless breath out of his nose trying to centre himself. If he’s able to work his way through most of this paperwork without getting an urgent field assignment, he can call it a day.

Kravitz steels himself and gets back to work, trying not to think about the damp spot on his trousers.

\-----

Taako smiles lazily from his recline on the bed as he watches Kravitz slide his suit jacket off. The man can be uptight at the best of times, but his posture is uncharacteristically stiff today.

The sharp electrical crackle of the ozone scent that clings to Kravitz whenever he steps through a rift permeates the room, mingling with the musky vanilla spice of Taako’s chosen perfume. Kravitz's nostrils flare when the scent hits him. Taako’s tendency to wear it whenever he's feeling particularly, well, frisky, has a Pavlovian effect on Kravitz. Coupled with the bite of the lace between his cheeks, the urge to sink to his knees is a strong and demanding one. The list of Things He Wouldn't Do to be at Taako’s feet nudging the edge of his short skirt further up his thighs is getting shorter by the second.

Kravitz's fingers go to the buttons of his waistcoat.

“Don't.” Taako says. “Prefer you done up.”

He crooks a teal-painted finger, and without hesitation, Kravitz pads over to stand in front of where Taako's perched on the edge of their low bed. The fact that it puts Taako’s head more or less on level with his hips isn't lost on Kravitz.

“Y’know, I don't say this sorta shit lightly but you look fuckin’ incredible.”

The tips of Kravitz’s ears begin to go a little pink, and he has a slightly glassy look in his eyes that speaks to his silent desperation to be touched. Taako’s hands come up to smooth down the front of Kravitz’s fine dress trousers as he looks him up and down in silent approval.

Kravitz can’t help but reach out and set one of his unsteady palms against Taako’s cheek, finding comfort in the warmth of his body. Taako’s ears dip as he settles his face against Kravitz’s hand, turning ever so slightly to press a kiss to the base of his thumb.

“Cold boy,” Taako murmurs.

Kravitz chuckles softly and brushes his thumb over the fine bow of Taako’s top lip. In this moment he’s unspeakably glad for his lack of a heartbeat, as he’s certain it would currently be pounding out of his chest with the ferocity of just how much he loves this elf.

The quiet moment between them is interrupted by Taako’s hands finding their way to his fly and popping open all four buttons in quick succession, keeping their eyes locked all the while. Kravitz’s thumb is still nestled into the dip of his philtrum.

Taako makes short work of the fastenings of Kravitz’s bracers. Taako used to gripe about all the extra buttons, but his hands are so practiced at it by now that it’s almost muscle memory.

All it takes is Taako hooking his fingers into the pockets and a giving a sharp tug to send Kravitz’s trousers pooling around his ankles.

“Just look at this, jeez.” Taako brushes his fingertips over the obscene jut of Kravitz's cock under the lace.

The touch is soft, almost imperceptibly light, but Kravitz feels himself jerk even at something so gentle. From the way Taako grins, he sees it too.

“Guess you enjoyed yourself today, my man.”

“It was very, uh—” Kravitz pauses, licks his lips. “Enlightening, I suppose. I just can’t...”

Taako hums in question, his ears perking up.

“Can’t understand why you’d do this to yourself every day.”

“It's about how they make you feel,” Taako says, running his hands down Kravitz's sides. His fingertips catch slightly on the lace.

“I haven't been able to stop thinking about you”—Kravitz swallows noisily—“your fingers…”

Taako tugs Kravitz down to sit beside him, allowing him a moment to step out of his trousers and kick his shoes off at the foot of their bed. "Uh huh," he says, low. “Tell me more.”

"Are they meant to—" Kravitz stalls, the heat in his cheeks is intolerable.

"Meant to what?”

“They’re just a little...” Kravitz clears his throat and thumbs at his goatee, squirming under Taako’s playful probing. “Clingy. They’re _clingy._ ”

The right corner of Taako's mouth twitches in obvious amusement, clearly struggling to hold back his signature shit-eating grin.

"I might’ve, possibly, _may_ be made them a touch too small."

“ _Taako_ ,” Kravitz whines, “do you—do you know how fucking frustrated I've been all day? _Fuck_. Gods, I couldn't sit down without—”

“Without what?”

Kravitz's thick brow is furrowed, lips pursed in something that's perilously close to a pout of frustration as he fumbles his hands through his disheveled hair.

“Without them riding my fucking arse all day,” Kravitz blurts out. “It’s been nearly 10 hours; I can’t take it anymore.”

There’s no even cursory attempt to hold himself back: Taako howls in laughter, despite the genuinely frustrated expression creasing his husband's face. Kravitz only swears when he's either incredibly pissed off, or incredibly horny. Or some strange union between the two, Taako supposes. The combination of that knowledge and the deep flush staining his cheeks and the bridge of his nose is too much.  
  
“You _poor_ boy. Guess I know where you want my attention first, huh?”

“Just kiss me.”

“You big fuckin’ sap.” It’s quiet for a moment as Taako smooths a thumb over the grey streaks at Kravitz’s temple,  before twisting a slightly longer wavy strand around his index finger. He forgets sometimes, how much of a romantic Kravitz is. “Been turned on all day and that’s all you want?”

“I'm serious, Taako.” The expression in Kravitz’s preternaturally golden eyes is profoundly earnest. “If you want to take me apart then kiss me.”

Kravitz has always worn his heart on his embarrassingly monogrammed shirt sleeves with Taako. Always tried to be honest, despite the lack of practice, despite the centuries wide chasm between when he last had a meaningful relationship and now. There’s a space in Taako’s chest that _aches_ keenly at his partner’s open display of adoration. No matter how frequently he gets to experience it, it will never, _ever_ get old.

Slowly and quietly, Taako nudges the tip of his nose up against the prominent bump in Kravitz's. He takes care to exhale shallowly against Kravitz’s mouth so that Kravitz can feel the warm of his breath, but doesn’t yet close the distance between their lips.

Kravitz could press forward and kiss Taako of his own accord. He doesn’t.

Taako never would have expected Kravitz to surrender control so thoroughly, but it’s become a habit for them no matter how viciously Taako tests Kravitz’s patience. Kravitz has been needing, _wanting_ all day, but he waits, shivers as Taako breathes against his mouth—daring him to take what he wants. And when he’s made Kravitz suffer enough, Taako brushes their lips together. Softly at first then firmly, urgently, delighting at how open and eager Kravitz’s mouth is when Taako’s tongue sweeps inside.

The soft noises of utter contentment Kravitz makes into him are given so freely that it makes Taako weak at the knees.

They kiss for long minutes, lost in the white noise and static of each other’s touch. Kravitz’s hands thread through Taako’s hair—grown out since they met, long enough to card his fingers through—and come back around to thumb over the hint of stubble on his chin. Taako usually takes his time undressing Kravitz, makes a show of it, but they’re beyond that now. He works Kravitz out of his waistcoat and shirt while they kiss.

Still unwilling to pull back, Taako climbs into Kravitz’s lap and pushes at his shoulders until he falls back onto the mattress. The heat behind their kisses rises quickly, until it’s little more than breathing into each others mouths as Taako runs the tip of his tongue along the length of a fang, only managing to drag himself away to nip at the Kravitz’s bottom lip.

They move further up the mattress together in a graceless shuffle of intermingled limbs. Taako takes particular care to settle himself in the middle of Kravitz’s legs, spreading his thighs further apart purely to luxuriate in the lean muscles straining under his palms. Kravitz arches up against Taako as he’s summarily pinned to the mattress.

As odd as it had been when they first started hooking up, the sensation of Kravitz’s body heat rising as they move together is something Taako will never tire of.  And it’s rising now—at every point of contact between them. It’s in Taako pushing Kravitz’s thighs apart, in Kravitz’s hand palming over the small of Taako’s back, and in his other fist where it’s twisting into the sheets as Taako rolls his hips, presses forward into him. It hums beneath his skin as he yields to the way his body _wants_ under Taako’s hands.

Suddenly, as if he’s been caught by an electrical charge, Taako pulls away from Kravitz. He kneels up and abruptly all of the warm points of contact between them are severed.

“Hoo boy, I was real close to getting carried away there,” Taako says, brushing down his wrinkled blouse. He’s very obviously half-hard beneath his leggings, which do very little to conceal anything at the best of times.

“Wh-wh—” Kravitz stammers, feeling deeply bereft at the sudden distance between them.

“Relax babe, Taako’s got it covered.” He winks confidently, though there’s a definite flush creeping down the tips of his long ears. Sensing Kravitz’s confusion, he leans down and presses a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. Kravitz turns towards it, instinctively trying to follow Taako as he pulls away, but Taako halts him with a warm palm pushing him back down into the sheets.

“What’d I say?” Taako says, more firmly. “Gonna take care of you, Krav, don’t worry.”

Just to illustrate his point, he nudges a fingertip into the deep notch between Kravitz’s sharp collarbones and draws down, into the slight dip over his sternum and through the thatch of dark hair that continues all the way down over his belly and disappears under Taako’s repurposed lingerie.

Kravitz squirms at the not-quite tickling sensation, and his mouth falls open when Taako’s fingers dip teasingly into the waistband. He nods, seemingly incapable of responding at the moment.

And fuck if he’s not gorgeous like this. Taako could tease him forever, but Kravitz was so good at keeping his promise that Taako owes him the same. So he pushes the palm of his hand firmly against the obvious bulge of Kravitz's cock.

A sudden jolt of arousal courses through him as he watches the tendons in Kravitz’s inner thighs stand out in stark relief when Kravitz spreads his thighs wide in an open display, begging to be touched. At this angle Taako can see the lace filigree disappearing between Kravitz’s cheeks as he nudges his cock into Taako’s palm. He's only just verging on half-hard, but it’s more than obvious how desperate he is.

“That's it, handsome, take what you want,” Taako says, lowly. He watches as Kravitz rolls his hips slowly, riding his palm. He licks his lips before adding, “You wanna know something, Krav?”

“ _Gods_. What?” Kravitz arches back into the pillows as Taako slides his fingers down and under the curves of his cock where his balls are held tight under the lace.

“These are the ones you made me come in that one night, near the beginning.”

“Fuck, Taako. That's— _fuck._ ”

Kravitz doesn't necessarily remember _him_ being the one who made Taako come that night. It was more or less all Taako himself, riding the palm of Kravitz’s hand through his underwear, tight skirt hitched up around the top of his thighs.

The memory hits him like a train: nearly begging to get down on his knees and bury his nose in the junction of Taako's thighs, face on fire. Kravitz had cleaned Taako off with his tongue afterwards; he keenly remembers the sensation of Taako's spent, sensitive cock softly twitching against his tongue through the soft black lace whilst Taako ran his hands through his hair and told him how very good he was with his mouth.

It was years ago now, but such a stretch of time feels insignificant in Kravitz’s memory. At this point he knows that there’s no use acting like he hasn’t privately divided the long span of his existence into three categories: Pre-Death, Post-Death, and Post-Taako.

Taako smooths a hand over the breadth of a stockinged thigh, then smiles at the change in texture as he drags his palm over Kravitz’s upper thigh, pushing his fingertips over the coarse hair. He slips one finger tip under the very edge of the lingerie _just so_ , then hums deep in his throat as Kravitz spreads himself wider.

“Mm, so you wanted to get yourself off all day, yeah? Well, why don't you show me how you’d do it?”

“How? You mean, just...”

“Babe, I _know_ I don’t have to teach you how to fuckin’ jerk off.” Taako grins, toying with the elastic string holding one sheer stocking up.

Kravitz somehow manages to both roll his eyes impetuously and flush to the tips of his ears at the same time. He hesitates at first, then slips his hand underneath the edge of the waistband, pushing his fingertips slowly through the hair. He sucks in a needless breath as his fingers graze the base of his aching cock. He swears he can feel the hot beat of blood inside his sluggish arteries as his middle finger slips along the path of the prominent vein coiled over the top of his shaft—the one Taako most likes tracing with the tip of his tongue.

“That's it,” Taako whispers from halfway down the bed, eyes fixed intently on the shape of Kravitz's fingers moving agonisingly slowly under the lace. He knows what Kravitz is doing, can almost see the path his fingers follow through the sheer fabric.

Even to Kravitz himself the image of his own cock so barely held in place by the tiny slip of lace is so fucking shameless that he twitches under his own gaze. He's so hard now that he has to adjust his thick shaft to lie towards his hip and give him the barest bit of relief. And those fucking _panties_ —they’re riding up between his thighs even more demandingly now. The tight pressure over the cleft of his arse is making him long fiercely for Taako's hands and mouth.

“You like that, huh?” Taako practically croons.

Kravitz nods, huffs out a breath of laughter at that understatement, and then he finally— _finally_ —gets his fingers around the thickness of his shaft underneath the sheer lace. There’s no possible way to have his hand and his cock inside the too-tight underwear, and the slick head pokes obscenely out of the waistband to lie against his stomach. Kravitz is unable to keep a whimper inside his mouth at the sensations washing over him. It sounds far too desperate, but he’s not sure that he cares any more.

“Shit, Krav,” Taako murmurs somewhere below him. There's a quiet rasp of fabric against skin, and although he can’t see, Kravitz knows Taako is rubbing himself through his leggings. The knowledge of that alone is enough to make him leak a little more, precome seeping through the fabric—which Taako obviously sees, judging by his sharp intake of breath. It’s quickly followed by a bitten-off curse as Taako shuffles a little closer.

Taako has a certain fascination with the way that Kravitz’s cock leaks so copiously. It’s one of the perks of his tiefling heritage—he’s always been thankful that he got the dick and not the horns. It’s practically a constant stream whilst Taako is fucking him, a fact Taako is endlessly smug about.

Kravitz meets Taako’s eyes and watches him absent-mindedly lick his lips, ears twitching with overt interest. He allows himself a moment of self indulgence as he rolls his hips into his palm, then they break eye contact and both watch as Kravitz pushes his thick foreskin over the head of his cock. It drools onto his fist and Kravitz spreads the fluid onto the palm of his hand.

Gasping, Taako watches him fuck his own hand for a few minutes, still touching himself.

“Lemme see you,” Taako chokes out finally, voice breaking a little as his hand dips lower inside his slacks.

Taking his hand off his cock is the very last thing in the entire fucking planar system Kravitz wants to do right now. He's waited so long, and been so good… But the look in Taako's eyes has too much longing. So he lets go, and moves his hands to unclip the stockings from the garter belt.

“No—leave ‘em on,” says Taako, warm palm in the back of his hand halting Kravitz. “Please?”

Kravitz silently acquiesces, pushing the waistband of the underwear down underneath his balls and leaving the dainty slip of lace stretched taut between his thighs—spread to the limits of what the fabric will allow—with the stockings and garters still in place. He takes himself in hand again.

“I have never been so fuckin’ glad that one of your ancestors fucked a demon, babe,” Taako says, watching intently as Kravitz's hand slides over his shaft and sends a trickle of precome down over his knuckles. Taako has always been openly appreciative of his anatomy, but the complete lack of reserve as he watches Kravitz is something else entirely. It feels a little like worship.

“Fuck, sorry I can't, I’ve gotta—” Taako says in a sharp rush of air, suddenly shuffling up the bed on his knees and kneeling between Kravitz’s spread legs. He wraps a hand around Kravitz’s own and lowers his head to press an open mouthed kiss on the slick crown of Kravitz’s cock. There’s desperate noise in the back of his throat at the contact, and Kravitz turns his face half into the pillow to let out a long, muffled whine.

Taako's hand tightens around his and slides upwards, firm over the thickest part of his cock and squeezing just behind the prominent ridge of the head. That pushes a thick trail of precome out of his slit, and Taako rubs over his own plush bottom lip, coating it in slick fluid. A strand of it hangs in the air between them for a moment when he pulls back, and he looks up at Kravitz through his lashes, lips shining in the dim light.

Kravitz makes a strangled noise.

“You—”

“Kiss me.” His tone makes it clear it's more of an order than a request, but one that Kravitz is just bursting to fulfil.

So he does.

Kravitz can't help but lick the taste of himself from Taako’s mouth, pushing the split of his bifurcated tongue over Taako's bottom lip so he can gather the slickness there. It's bitter, not entirely pleasant, but the way Taako curses into his mouth and tugs at his hair is an absurdly effective motivator. It makes Kravitz only want to kiss him harder. In his overeagerness Kravitz manages to nip his own bottom lip; the skin splits easily under the tip of a long fang. Embarrassing—he hasn't accidentally bitten himself since he was a child.

As thoroughly deceased as he is—reanimated or not—Kravitz’s blood pressure is significantly lower than a mortal’s. Blood wells up slowly out of the cut and a thin trickle drips down his chin before disappearing into the stubble of his goatee.

“Shit, Krav,” Taako mutters, tasting the sharp metallic tang of blood.

“Sorry.” Kravitz pulls back, wipes his mouth on the back of his free hand.

Taako laughs, breathless, and pulls Kravitz right back in.

Then they’re kissing again, and Kravitz starts to roll his hips, rubbing his bare cock up against the jut of Taako's erection where it’s covered and straining inside his leggings.

“Just love to make a mess of me, huh?” Taako says when they pull apart, looking down where Kravitz has left streaks of fluid on his trousers.

Unlike Taako, who struggles to stop himself babbling even when he's being fucked through the mattress, Kravitz has trouble saying much when he's this far gone. Instead he sighs under his breath and watches with heavy lidded eyes as Taako shoves down his leggings, cock swaying between his lean freckled thighs. In the next instant Taako takes himself in hand and pushes the curve of his shaft up against Kravitz’s.

It’s—

“It’s so fucking hot,” Taako says. “Your dick, I mean. Fuck, Krav, when you get like this—”

Taako doesn’t have to say it for Kravitz to know what he means. His body is thrumming now, as close to alive as he gets. There’s so much—velvet hot drag of slick skin against skin, Taako’s breath against his mouth and the nails of one hand digging into Kravitz’s arm while the other just fits around the girth of them both together.

Not to be outdone, Kravitz reaches inside Taako's sheer blouse and smoothes the pad of his thumb over one pierced nipple, rolling the golden barbell firm but gentle—well versed in exactly what Taako likes. It earns him a bitten off gasp and a curse, before Taako pulls him back into a fierce kiss.

He’s so close—too close to stay still. Taako’s hand keeps working both of them together, and Kravitz arches and grabs onto one of the rails of the headboard, using the leverage it gives him to rock harder into Taako’s fist.

“I love—gods. I love you,” Kravitz breathes into Taako's mouth, open in a silent moan.

“Fuckin’”—Taako gasps, huffs out a breath of laughter—“sentimental old man.” He grins before leaning to rest his sweaty forehead against Kravitz’s cheek.

When he comes, Kravitz falls apart almost in slow motion.

There’s a long intake of breath they both know he doesn’t need to take. Then his back arches sharply as he starts pulsing, cock jerking hard in Taako's fist as the first gush of come hits him squarely in the face.

“Good shot, my dude.” Taako barks a laugh, still rubbing the over-sensitive head of his own cock into Kravitz’s frenulum. The fluid roll of Kravitz’s hips as he rides out his agonisingly long awaited orgasm sends a few thick streaks of come spattering over his chest and belly, soaking into the hair. The last few spurts leak down his shaft, over Taako’s hand.

Kravitz is handsome at the best of times, but to Taako he’s never as devastating as when he's coming apart underneath him. His body is so gorgeously responsive that he climaxes _hard_ when he's handled just right—and no one does it better than Taako. And of course there’s something more than a little vulnerable about Kravitz like this, something to be treasured. It’s as much in how he defers to Taako’s pace, no matter how desperate he is, as it is in how he seems to melt in under his hands. In how—

Fuck, Taako gets _way_ too maudlin when he’s about to pop off.

Maybe it’s the truly disgusting level of sentiment that pushes him over the edge—Taako starts coming in the middle of thinking about how thoroughly Kravitz is _his_. It hits him harder than he expected, shooting short bursts all over the lacy underwear and Kravitz’s still hard but spent cock. His ears droop low, almost pointed at the floor; exhausted.

“Hoo boy,” Taako says, raising his hand to his lips and cleaning off a long streak of mingled come off the back of his hand. “You did good, my man.” He looks down at the mess between them again. “You did good.”

\-----

Kravitz already knows without even checking, that his hair is a riotous mess.

Taako feels a particular sense of achievement about it every time, considering that ever since they very first met every strand on the man's head is usually pomaded to within an inch of it's pseudo-life.

The discovery that his hair was naturally wavy and tended to curl at the ends was something that still fascinated Taako, even after all these years.

When he had initially remarked on it, after their first night together, Kravitz had shyly confessed—in the same tone that he used every time he spoke of his mortal life—that whilst he was alive he had worn his hair a lot longer; the image of which still finds a way to make Taako’s chest ache with the sheer amount of fondness he feels for this ridiculous man.

He tumbles onto the mattress next to Kravitz, who looks as if he’s in the process of melding with the duvet.

“Pretty sure I just died again,” says Kravitz, voice more than a little wobbly, and tinged with post-coital euphoria. “This is the afterlife I always dreamt of.”

“Guess I shouldn't be surprised your perfect death is being covered in my come,” Taako says, fingers still playing with Kravitz’s damp hair.

“We’re playing this game, are we?” Kravitz says, summoning what definitely feels like the last few dregs of strength in his body to roll over and flop gracelessly on top of Taako, who immediately squawks.

“ _Dude_ . Hope you know you just fuckin’ volunteered to explain to my drycleaner why there's _mysterious fluids_ all over my Moonsea silk blouse. This shit don't come cheap y’know.”

He sounds offended, but Kravitz knows it’s just bluster. The blouse was a birthday gift last year. He rubs his come-streaked, stubbly cheek against Taako’s face, who makes a noise of faux-disgust.

“I was under the impression that you loved my dick,” Kravitz says, voice muffled by Taako’s neck.

“I married you _for_ that dick, jackass.”

Kravitz snorts. It’s the vaguely embarrassing laugh of a man who’s so bonelessly exhausted he’s unable to do more than sink into the sticky bedsheets, cuddled up against his husband.

“Love you too, Krav.”

It’s the last thing Kravitz hears before drifting off to sleep.


End file.
